


i bend them down to stay.

by oldtune



Series: delta/nabla [3]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldtune/pseuds/oldtune
Summary: the hush steals over them, loneliness like a cover.





	i bend them down to stay.

.

* * *

.

It's morning.

Kris curls into their sheets, turning their back to where Asriel's bed lies empty and doesn't get up. The alarm isn't ringing because they took the battery out last week but they can still the hear its loud beeping ringing through their head. Ugh.

The cold presses down on them like a physical weight as they pull themself out of the covers and shuffle over to Asriel's side of the room where the bed is messily made and the alarm lies on its side, back still open and empty. They almost can't look at it.

They leave it the way it is and shuffle back to bed where they flop facedown onto the covers and blow out a sigh in hopes that it'll loosen the tightening in their chest. The shelves overhead are empty, knickknacks packed away in Asriel's moving boxes because the two of them had decided Asriel would take take their stuff instead of his. So it would feel like they were still somehow together.

It doesn't feel like that now. It feels like a pulled tooth, a new space that hurts with every heartbeat and the pain of it aches through their body. They miss him already. They miss him a lot.

Mom knocks on the door.

"Kris? Are you awake?"

They can't answer. A lump settles in their throat and they know better than to say anything because they're afraid they'll start crying.

"Kris?"

They thump at the headboards and mom sighs quietly.

"Rise and shine my child," she says. "It's time to get up."

It's wrong. It's  _wrong_. It's wrong but it's their mom and they love her so they swallow all the sadness and say 'okay' in a voice that almost sounds right.

"I'll see you for breakfast, alright?" says Mom before she walks away, and they're. They feel.

A sob breaks out of their mouth and they cover it immediately, hunching over and burying their face into the covers. They didn't want to cry. They – it's not that they  _wanted_  her to worry, they did this all so she wouldn't but still.  _Still_. Shouldn't she have noticed?

They sniffle, rubbing their eyes and cough through another sob.

Dad would have opened the door.

Dad would have opened the door and said  _good morning!_  and scooped them up or given them one of his soft pats for when they didn't feel like hugging and – it hurts. It  _hurts_  because he's not here and  _Asriel's_  not here and they love mom, they  _do_  but. They can't do this.

They can't do this.

The tears drip from their eyes like so many raindrops and they can't breath through their nose but they can't do this right now because mom is waiting for them and she'll worry. She'll worry. So Kris takes a deep deep breath, sucks it in and holds it in their chest until they feel like they're going to burst. Then they let it out slow. Then they do it again and again until they feel lightheaded but less likely to cry again and they stumble over to the bathroom in quick, staggering steps.

They don't meet their own face in the mirror but the cold water makes them feel better. They brush their bangs over their eyes and just stand there for a moment. They still want to cry. They can't.

Breakfast is quiet.

Mom has her glasses on, slipping down her face a little and Kris watches her push them back up. It's pie for breakfast today and it sticks in their throat a little bit but they still eat it. They pick their dishes up and wash them in the sink, walk past the other chair in the living room as fast as they can without looking but their eyes are still prickling when they get in the car.

They can't cry, they  _can't_.

Mom holds their hand on the walk to school. It's warm and soft, a familiar ritual. She lets them go as they separate and wishes them a good day. They give her a quick nod and trudge over to class. The day passes them by in a heavy fog, voices muffled behind thick glass and moments slipping through their fingers before they can catch hold. The only thing they remember at the end of the day is that their eyes never stopped burning.

They text mom instead of calling.

**Me: going for a walk.**

**Momma: Come back safe!**

**Me: okay.**

**Momma: See you soon, my child! :]**

**One unread message.**

They leave school through the back gates, the ones covered in bramble and bushes where there's an opening they've gotten too big to crawl through. They used to pull Asriel through it back when they were younger and they would both get muddy dirt on their knees, come back home scraped up and snickering before putting on their best sorry faces for tracking mud into the house.

This time they just swing themself over the fence and land on the other side with a thump, screened from sight by the rose bushes that have grown over the years. They cover everything, the roses, twisting through the gaps in the gate and winding across the top of it. They're pretty and, on reflex, Kris pulls out their phone again and takes a picture of them with their shaky camera. They save it to the roll. They walk on.

It's a little easier to think now, with nothing around them but their familiar haunting grounds, the soft green grass and sweet-smelling air. They hold their phone in one hand, keeping an eye on places they know things usually grow and the snap of the shutter makes their shoulders settle into something a little less tight.

A small patch of berries, a group of blue irises pushing up from the ground, the play of shadows with golden light under the trees.

It gets easier to breathe.

They circle around several times before finding a place to sit against a sturdy tree and leaning back so their head thunks quietly against the wood. They pull their hood up and curl their hands into their pockets, watching the sky in bits and pieces through the branches of the tree.

They think of things, of Dad and Asriel and how the house seems so much quieter without them there to fill it up with sunshine and booming voices and the softest, most careful hugs. They think of mom, with her gentle hands and serious face and snorting laughter when she tries and fails to tell a joke with a straight face. They let themselves feel. It's a lot.

The sun dips slowly down and the skies turn golden above them and their thoughts turn and turn in their head, slow and careful. It takes them a good long while to feel settled again but when they are, they look through their pictures.

They're good. The ones they've taken today look better than they expected and as they swipe through the library of photos the knot in their chest loosens further. They flip back to the picture of the roses and decide to send it. The glowing notification of an unread message stops them short. It's from mom.

**Momma: Hello dear one. I noticed you were feeling**

**upset today. I did not want to bring attention to it but.**

**I am here if you wish to speak with me and I am here if**

**you wish not to. Come home whenever you're ready.**

**Love, Mom.**

It's been a while since mom's signed her own name on a text and it makes a smile curl up at the corners of their lips. They send her the picture of roses coiled tight around the gates, blooms bright and full with soft waxy petals.

**Momma: Oh! They are lovely! :]**

**Me: :]**

Mom sends back a picture of herself, smile wide and eyes glimmering with warmth. Looking closer, they can see the relief in them and the happiness. Her glasses are sliding down her nose again.

**Me: coming home now.**

**Momma: I'll be waiting!**

Kris stands up and dusts themself off, bits of grass and leaves falling from their clothes.

They start on the long walk home, hands tucked back into their pockets and hood falling comfortably forward.

A feeling slides through through their veins, like different kind of magic, something they can't quiet put a name on. Something easy and calm. It belongs to them, this feeling, and it sinks down into their soul and makes them feel steady. They're okay. Everything is okay.

Asriel will come home. They'll go to see dad. Things will work out one way or the other. They can do it.

They pull out their phone and snap a picture of the streetlights just turning on, tap on their contacts and start another text.

**Me: hey look.**

**Me: [image sent]**


End file.
